


Adepta of the Inquisition

by Herald_of_Naamah



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Adepta Sororitas, F/M, Inquisition, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herald_of_Naamah/pseuds/Herald_of_Naamah
Summary: A young girl of the Schola Progenium finds herself at an empass, and finds her future in the grim dark future changing.





	1. Chapter 1

Mischanne was 14 the day the Schola mistress pulled her aside to express her concerns.

Not that, at that age, she was expected to have made up her mind. Her hair was still somewhere between blonde and bright white, her skin clear. Her conscience unfettered. She sat down quietly, fresh-faced and appearing to be innocent. Her eyes though would betray her sincerity, she knew. Her uncertainty was rampant.

Not in the God-Emperor himself. In the Ministorum.

"Mischanne. Thank you for your promptness." The sister superior's voice is deep, clipped. Mischanne barely held back a sigh as she read the woman's body language and could feel how little the woman actually appreciated anything about the situation. "Has something been troubling you lately?"

Mischanne let her head cock at the unexpected turn of phrasing. Sister superior was trying to catch her off-guard, get her to admit something was wrong. Instead she smiled back. "I do not believe so, Sister, but I doubt I would be here if you did not see something troubling me. I crave the clarity of your insight."

The sister pursed her lips unhappily, obviously displeased being caught in her game by a whelp. "You are unruly," she noted. "Does life here not suit you?"

A truly tricky question. One Mischanne, at her tender age, cannot be prepared to answer. Her words stumble as she explains, "It is... enough, Sister Superior."

The sister shakes her head. "No, child. It is not enough. You must have faith- a blind faith..."

"No," Mischanne corrected. "That is not quite right."

"Excuse me?"

"Many times I have been instructed to consider my faith," Mischanne pointed out. "To ask why I am worthy of the Emperor's care. That is not blind adoration but thoughtful analysis. You yourself have told me to consider how I should make my armaments weapons of His justice- this is not blind because it has elements I must undertake to ensure my care. Every day I am taught to hone myself, better my mind and tools. This is NOT blindness, Sister. It is quite pointedly careful. And for that I am grateful, for I would hate the idea of heading into battle with my eyes shut."

The sister superior blinked, then laughed jovially. "Misha, Misha. What to do with you."

The young downy-haired girl raised her head defiantly. "Pardon?" The chuckle unnerved her, made no sense in this context...

"You are not the kind for burdenless faith," the sister noted. "Yet neither do you have a zealous fervor to inspire those around you to extreme actions. It is... difficult to place you as an up-and-coming sister for the field. There is too much of your mother in you."

Mischanne smiled sadly. "My mother."

Mischanne's mother was a contentious subject. The woman had been a celestian guard, strong and pure, until a chance joint encounter with a member of the assassinorum. The two had shared an evening together, a moment of weakness, and the result was Mischanne. The child was sent here to the Schola Progenium, tagged as a sister in training, and her mother forced into the Repentia.

Mischanne wondered what her mother would have wanted for her.

"She would have you be happy. As would I."

"I doubt I'll ever know what she would have wanted," Mischanne noted. "Or, respectfully, that you would know her heart in the end. She left me, sister superior, and I do not have the luxury to be aware of her mental state."

The sister superior frowned, almost clucking in dismay as she considered the girl before her. Mischanne bore that gaze already sure of what was coming...

Instead of the drumming out Mischanne was expecting the sister superior smiled at her. "I understand," she admitted. "Perhaps... maybe... we can come to a new arrangement?"

"Such as?" Her voice struggled to remain even, her curiosity peeked.

"The Ordo Xenos has come to our Schola for assistance investigating a nearby incursion into this system by an alien race." Her snip of disgust was evident. "If you would be willing to support them and be their assistant over the next few weeks then it would give you an opportunity to prove your worth to the Inquisition."

Mischanne considered the opportunity. It would mean a different view, new lifestyles. She was very intrigued by this. "The... Inquisition? Ordo Xenos?"

"In particular an Inquisitor Roselyn Honor, to be precise. She specifically asked for someone in our program..."

Mischanne felt her head spinning fast as it struggled to make sense of the universe in front of her. Earlier she had been assured of a failing future with a militant order in whose faith she had been unsure. Now she had a chance to change that- a choice to be something else in life. To say anything besides yes would be insane.

"I have a few questions," was what she actually did say. Close enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Mischanne did not know what she expected from the Ordo Xenos, but Rosenowe Honor was not it.

The woman had pitch black hair and an Aquila tattoo on her face, just below the right eye. She was young for the job, likely only in her forties or fifties when the better part of a century was typical. Honor also had an open demeanor, preferring to let her associates and quarries talk and back themselves into a corner rather than harsher, more guided methods.

The young sister is fascinated.

Rosenowe takes a seat beside the girl, handing her a caff. "So."

"Yes, my lady Inquisitor?"

"I have been told you are among the smartest of all your assessments," the Inquisitor noted. "Do you know why it is that I am still being compelled by your superiors to like you and steal you away?"

Mischanne let her cheeks go pink as she turned away from the Inquisitor, stammering slightly as her mouth refused to respond. "I'm... well..."

Rosenowe shakes her head, waving her hand absently in front of her. "Ah, never mind that. I need another set of eyes with me on this, one more attuned to the state of affairs. Do you understand what that means, Mischa? Oh, I CAN call you Mischa, yes? Just a bit easier on the tongue?"

"I... yes, of course."

"And you understand my needs, Mischa?"

The one-time sororitas student looked at the Inquisitor and nodded slowly. "I believe so, Inquisitor."

"I have a limited view child. My eyes cannot see everything going on around us, even on this fair planet. I need a more attuned sense- someone who know what is normal, and what is not. I will do the rest. Understand?"

Mischanne just nodded. "As you say, Inquisitor." There was little else she could do, really.

In any Progenium, the Inquisition is still spoken of in soft whispers and cautious tones, eyes open and alert to see who is around you. Mischanne found it hard, however, to appoint this mystique to the woman who sought her. Rosenowe was not dour but light, and her surroundings given to a certain aide not of authority but personality. Mementos- paintings- statuary not only of the emperor but also depicting common entertainment. It was a startling contrast to what was expected...

And yet Mischa found herself compelled to speak. To promise herself to this woman. To help.

The next weeks are a blur of activity. Mischanne observes her own former classmates- she can't think of them as current friends anymore- and Rosenowe listens to her thoughts. Sometimes she presses for details, sometimes personal opinions, but always in her gently forcing way. It is exhausting but somehow comfortable at the same time. She comes to enjoy it.

Mischanne thought she might cry when the Inquisitor left. Yet the Emperor's heart was kind in this matter- in ways she did not yet expect.


	3. Chapter 3

It took years for an Inquisitorial agent to be trained properly. Even longer, it was said, for the highest level. Some were experts in their own fields, while others were picked from from birth and trained to be acolytes in a specific field. Mischanne found herself in a strange in-between realm as one who had received the training but was not quite a part of the Inquisition. Which is where Roseknowe came in.

Mischanne had spent a few years at the Inquisitor's side, fairly literally. Now nearly eighteen, she had kept up her abilities with both ranged and melee weapons; in spite of this, Roseknowe refused to let her go anywhere without teaming by nearby and observing or assisting. It was starting to feel like a lack of confidence in spite of bringing her into the fold...

"Misha? Grenades?"

Mischanne broke out of her thoughts to refocus on the firefight, grabbing a psych-grenade from her belt and pulling the pin as it gracefully arced into her tau-loving enemies. The blue aliens had hoped to gain foothold here, and the people were willing- which made the judgement harder. The hive world was important to the Imperium however, so it must be reclaimed for the glory of the God-Emperor. Light gasses shrouded her quarry as she and Mischanne both held their breath to see the result.

The human followers of the tau were running around like lunatics. One clutched at her skin screaming, saying tyranids were on her; another cried out as he stared horrified at his hands with claims they were melting. Another grinned as they jumped off the building. The grenade had worked.

"Now's our chance! Move!"

As she informs the Inquisitor and her small contingent, Misha moved herself to the next cover. From there she can easily take down the woman clawing at invisible bugs, a single shot to incapacitate. The Inquisitor gets the man, others assisting with the remaining as Misha gets two more who were out of range of her cloud. All in all, a successful operation.

Hours later back aboard the ship, Misha is bringing Inquisitor Roseknowe her cafe when the older woman asks her to stop. She brushes her hair back behind her ears and takes the proffered seat, head slanting to the side as she listened to the woman who took her in.

"Do you know why I chose you, Misha?"

"My knowledge of the school..."

"No. After that, why I've kept you near." When Misha shook her head in the negative, the Inquisitor continued. "You're adaptable, and capable. And you are not bound by the tight reigns of your teachings- you question it. And that is... important. In an apprentice."

The word hung in the air, dumbfounding the former Sister for a moment. When the significance came through she was certain she'd heard wrong before looking up to see a rare smile. Then the only word she could manage was a slight, "Oh."

"Speechless?"

Mischanne nodded. "And confused. Why the tight grip?"

"Partly as a test," Roseknowe admitted. "I knew you hadn't taken well to authority, and wanted to see if that could be pushed back. Then your performance was exemplary and I wanted you to back me up."

Mischanne considered that. "So I'm... your pupil?"

Roseknowe nodded. "In effect. Protege might be the better word."

Misha thought about that. "Why tell me about this now?" she queried, thoughtful.

"Because it's time to step up your training- Interrogator Mischanne."

The young woman is so stunned by the title, the suddenness of the authority, that she almost doesn't hear the warning in her mentor's voice. When it does float through and she catches the promise of pain and frustration she can't quite manage to hold back her groan. Roseknowe just laughs at the reaction.

The actuality ends up being worse than promised.


	4. Chapter 4

Mischanne curled her body around a corner on the dead world, her feet screaming at the light touch that hit them. She hissed silently, forcing her breath to remain steady as she dropped to the ground fully prostrate and took stock of the damage.

"Shit," she whispered at the image. Her ankle was twisted in an odd angle, and the bottom of the footpads was cut and bloody under her footwear. She shook her head and pulled the boots and socks off gingerly so as not to further aggravate the ankle, taking her jacket and tearing slivers off to better wrap the appendage. She then grabbed the boot again and returned it back to place so that she had the better support.

The mission was going perfectly.

Misha's ears perked as she heard chatter restart. She gave a small whistle, avian in design, and caught all motion stop. She repeated it, this time in a slightly different tone; as she did, she forced herself back to her feet while ignoring the pain, channeling her faith to continue on. She walked away from the sounds, counting out her angle...

And walked right into a dark eldar wytch.

"And what have we here?" the would-be captor crooned with a purr in their voice. "Lonely little mon-kai all alone on the planet we took from them? How sad."

Mischanne wanted to say something witty in response, but her body refused to respond. She let herself black out finally, confident that her mission was properly started. The clear orders had a definitive ring, and as her mind clouded slightly with rest she knew it would play in her favor.

When she woke, it was to greater pain.

Training took over immediately. Mischanne had been prepared for this moment, had found ways to train extensively to be ready to handle the cruel intentions of this subrace. Inquisitor Roseknowe wanted information on the culture to better prepare to wipe them out, and details about movements. Under circumstances this dire there was no way to infiltrate and keep your head about you, so Mischa had developed a new set of reflexes to make observation and survival one and the same. So she barely noticed the mental cartwheels she was going through at the moment- her attention itself was inward, even as her talents kicked in to capture every single detail around her.

They estimated time she could survive the most likely tortures was calculated at three days, but Misha found herself rethinking that timeline. They had not planned on her getting injured and hunted before capture- which changed things. The only saving grace was that from all accounts this branch of the ancient race did not take to killing their victims but instead having them while as long as possible.

She did however decide to keep quiet that she understood their language.

Day four came and went in a blur, Misha only vaguely aware of the time. It was then that she found flames starting around her, a fire from nowhere. Her body reacted even in chains- push away the heat. She called on the Emperor's mercy, and felt the touch of his reply as through her a chill emanated.

The ice fled up and outward, not extinguishing the flames but pushing them backward from her location. With a deep breath, she focused her attention inward and prayed for strength she knew she herself did not possess- and the Faith she felt answered by the cool embrace again as a burst of energy filled her body for but a split second, allowing her to push the bonds.

The next thing Misha knew, she was crawling on her knees to the drop point, eyes darting up in uncertainty as she looked for her escort out. A single small pod dropped before her, the door popping open to show Roseknowe. The Inquisitor slid out, drifting down to the ground and kneeling beside her apprentice.

"Report."

The words tumbled out by rote memory, Misha hardly aware of what she was doing as she spoke. The information was obviously useful based on Roseknowe's expression as she pulled the younger woman from the ground and pulled her into her own shoulder. Which is when it hit Misha...

"Wh... what are you doing here?"

"Taking care of you," was the simple, quiet response as she shifted the younger woman so that she was able to lean on her entirely. "I'm sorry I had to send you into this, but I promised I'd be nearby when it was over."

"Back on the ship..."

Roseknowe shook her head with a sad smile. "There is not a single danger I would put you in that I would not take on myself. The first part, the hard part, is over. This? I'm doing with my own hands."

Mischanne felt the Inquisitor set her gently in the transport and watched the hatch close. She was already airborne by the time she looked down to see the invasion on this planet beginning in earnest. Pods were littered all out with iconography from various levels in Roseknowe's Inquisitorial cells and even one or two from the Death Watch to eradicate this xeno menace. Her findings had been a part of the whole- this was a glorious assault.

And it was short.

Training for the Inquisition was not to be taken lightly.


	5. Chapter 5

Mischanne’s pen scratched loudly in the silence of her study. She tapped the end against her desk before chewing it, completely ignoring her actions as she looked at her paper again and considered the words she was writing carefully.

“You research well, Misha.” The compliment startled the young woman from her thoughts, blinking as she stood to attention swiftly. “Not necessary. I’m the one who snuck into your quarters- this time.”

Mischanne chuckled at Roseknowe’s antic. “As you say, Inquisitor.”

Roseknowe put a hand on her pupil’s shoulder. The older woman looked down at the page and read. “This is the Anduril report, yes?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Roseknowe snatched the page and pulled it closer. “Not the official party line,” she smoothly commented. “Not by a long shot.”I

“I thought it best the truth lay somewhere.”

Roseknowe nodded slowly. “Your work is improving vastly. Clean it up and I’ll archive it with the Ordo.” She inhaled deeply, the exhale a sigh, and let her neck crack as she rotated her head again. “You have been the most promising pupil I’ve ever seen, Misha. I want you to know that.”

“That sounds like an ending, Inquisitor.”

Roseknowe shook her head. “Not an ending. Maybe a starting point more than anything.”

Mischanne straightened at the description. “I’m listening,” she admitted, a smile drawing to her face as she thought of the insinuation. Her ears had perked, her breath held as she waited for her next order.

“I’ve received intel from a Rogue Trader family about a competitor they claim is trafficking in eldar artifacts outside his writ of trade. Normally I would ignore it, but he recently took a questionable passenger on board that bears notice.” The Inquisitor slid a card into her protégé’s hand, waiting for the girl to react before continuing along her explanation.

“You want me to question him?”

Roseknowe laughed aloud. “Question Victris Karladon? Oh Emperor no! That would be a futile effort.” She lowered her gaze, steel injecting itself into her demeanor. “I expect you to liaise with him and offer our support.”

“Liaise? With a suspected heretic?”

Roseknowe chuckled. “If Karladon is a heretic, so is the leader of the Imperial Fists,” she noted. “He was trained by the schola, and his devotion to the God-Emperor is a thing of great beauty. But we must make some visual confirmation of his loyalty. Not only that- it is high time I had you create your own base of power, and I believe he may be a good place to start.”

Mischanne nodded happily and stretched slowly. “Where do I find this Rogue Trader?”

Roseknowe brought up a holographic image of a star system. “It’s called the Orphey sector in the common tongue. Fairly recent mapping, mostly eldar held. Out of our jurisdiction, but Karladon’s parents were friends of mine. The best port of call will be right here.” She pointed at a planet, causing the younger woman to move and squint.

The lettering was small and swirled, near illegible, but she finally made it out. “Inskskin?”

“Ynskyn.”

“A minor hive planet, yes?”

“Exactly.” Roseknowe’s face practically vowed with pleasure her protégé had caught on. “He recruits from that planet under his birth name of Victris. If you tell him you work for me, there will be no trouble in gaining passage on his ship.”

Mischanne inhaled deeply, raising a hand to rub at one eye. She hadn’t realized how late it had truly gotten. “To what end?” She asked calmly. “Truly?”

Roseknowe shrugged. “Depends on your observations. I hope you may take him as an ally...”

“But?” The trail of her words was not lost on the younger woman at all.

“At the very least it will prove an exercise in seeing beneath the exterior,” Roseknowe provided. “I ask you take this on at your earliest convenience.”

Mischanne nodded. “I’ll go as soon as I can be packed then, Inquisitor. I thank you for this opportunity.”

Roseknowe blinked. Her face belied a chuckle being stifled, her voice suddenly coming out lightly. “Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “Good luck, Misha.”


	6. Chapter 6

When Mischanne stepped off the bridgeway onto the Rogue Trader’s ship, she was surprised by the imagery of the vessel. It was cleaner than others she had seen, more shining and kept as though it was being polished and scrubbed consistently. The uniforms on the crew members was spotless, buttons all in place- even the minor individuals. Karladon must, she imagined, keep a very tight ship indeed.

This thought was going through her head when she heard the commotion and turned on her heel. She was met by an entourage that moved through the area, in the front a man in bright red coat and brown pants and shirt. His boots came up to his knees, and a flurry of sashes wound around his midsection, clasped with a belt adorned with his weapons of choice- a plasma gun and a blade of shimmering metal. He looked for all the world like a vagabond as opposed to an agent of the Imperium.

“Sororitas.” His tongue twirled around the word, the old honorific That Mischanne had never thought to hear again- that did not belong to her. She shook her head even as he outstretched his hand.

“No longer,” she clarified. “You are Captain Karladon, yes?”

“My pleasure is to be so.” His grin was cocky, his head aloof, yet somehow he still charmed with his demeanor. It was endearing.

“Call me Misha.” She ran her fingers through her hair, black with streaks of silver-white, before shaking his hand. “You received my messages then.”

“And eagerly awaited your arrival.”

Mischanne smiled at his kindness, especially as he took the hand she offered and moved it to the crook of his arm. “Is this the tour?” She asked roundly, eyes twinkling.

“For you, my dear? The full tour will be my pleasure.”

Misha walked with the captain, eyes inspecting the ship thoroughly as she did. The entire vessel was impeccably clean but she could see where it was dated; he hadn’t been in central space a while, and repairs were sorely needed. The crew was friendly enough, but shook heads as they passed when they could tell Karladon wasn’t looking. Honored he may be, but respected?

Not so much.

“How long have you captained this ship?” She asked, casually with a stretch as she scurried her legs to keep up with his brisk pace.

“The writ has been mine for ten years,” he explained, “the vessel for five.”

“Why the difference?” she asked.

“My father retained the right for a few years. I worked as Trader under his tutelage for some time before he passed and I took her vet the ship.”

Misha considered that. It was an interesting arrangement that showed a maturity she did not expect from their first minutes of meeting. “You have learned well, then.”

There was no answer other than a sweeping gesture, a flourish as he guided her into the lift. She took his hand cautiously, holding it and waiting as they headed towards the bridge, her interest constantly peeking.

Karladon was nothing if not entertaining at least.


	7. Chapter 7

Mischanne was surprised to find that she favored the Rogue captain’s company. He was odd, his demeanor outwardly light and flippant, but she could see something different beyond the mask he wore. Beneath that facade was a man of high anxiety, who worried for the Imperium and his crew, and found his life difficult to fathom. That person, that man, she cared for. And that man, little by little, was revealed to her in full.

So she found herself in his room, curled on a couch in his study, considering his amasec collection and swirling a full glass as she read through a data file on a previous mission. “Is this... normal for you?” She asked cautiously as she pondered the writing.

Karladon shook his head. “Not by any means,” he explained. “This was the result of insubordination. I was forced to take... strong measures.”

Mischanne nodded slowly. “Can you tell me a bit about this... Michel? I’m trying to understand his motives.”

Karladon frowned. “He was my best friend at one point. He protected me when we were boys, stayed by my side when I was given my family’s writ. I was happy to continue with him at my side for many years.”

“So what happened?”

Here Karladon frowned. “Michel changed. Started taking with a crewman who was from a rival writ, and was telling old tales about my forefathers. In the end I had hoped that our friendship would supersede the lies but I was wrong. His desire to see me hurt was greater than our past.”

Mischa shook her head. “How could anyone want to harm you?”

Karladon grinned. “Well...”

Mischanne rolled her eyes. “Not a time for jokes, sir.”

Karladon shook his head. “No jokes. You have stayed at my side a few weeks now- the person I show others and what you have seen are not exactly alike.”

Misha considered that. He had been very overt, larger than life, until seeing her in private. Then he was understated, cynical- thoughtful. “Why?”

“The ruse is... useful to me. People underestimate me completely, and I can take time to think.” He grinned. “Besides, the persona is fun.”

“Is it?” Misha chuckled, leaning in over the papers. “How so?”

Karladon just grinned wider. “I think,” he noted, “you do enough of it to be well aware of the enjoyment in deception.”

 

Misha blinked, leaning in. “Well,” she breathed lightly, inches from the Trader’s lips. “You see...” At that, they met in a kiss, one that deepened roughly and truly. It was warm, comfortable- wonderful.

It was meant to last.


	8. Chapter 8

“Did things go well with Captain Karladon?”

Mischanne’s cheeks blushed bright red as she met her Inquisitor’s eyes. “Pardon?”

Roseknowe looked over her pupil and blinked. “I meant to ask if you believed him to be a useful agent for your retinue.”

Misha nodded. “Vic is a true ally of the Golden Throne,” she admitted. “We spoke often and my investigation proved him to be quite clean. I approve of him.”

Roseknowe chuckled under her breath. “Vic, hmmm? I have a feeling you did more than speak.”

“We...ah...”

Roseknowe sighed. “I don’t mind your dalliance with the good captain. Emperor knows if any two people deserve it that would be you two... as long as you can keep your mind on your job. You know. Interrogation. Firebranding. Serving mankind.”

Mischanne smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Roseknowe reaches out, datapad in hand. “To that end, I have an assignment for you. Elys Welsh, which I believe is a name you will recognize?”

Elys Welsh. “Yes, Inquisitor. She was a few years ahead of me in the Schola, chosen to be one of the seraphim last I saw her.”

“She joined the Celestian Guard,” Roseknowe commented. “Her tank is as impressive as her skills. Last time out, though, she happened to come across some... information that I need. I figured, given your history, letting you take this one would be a benefit.”

Misha turned the words over in her head lightly. “You want me to... question... a sororitas? A well-trained, highly placed one at that?”

“And how would you do that?”

Mischanne thought about that. “Gain her trust. We knew each other well, actually, and I might be able to get her to acknowledge that since I am a servant of the Inquisition. There is a danger though- if she feels too close, too beholden...” Her words paused there, her head lifting. She saw the curve in her mentor’s brow, the softness as she suppressed a smile. “You want me to recruit her!”

Roseknowe nodded. “Astute.”

Misha caught herself before casting doubt on the action. Instead she simply asked “Where is the individual?”

Roseknowe gestured to the pad, which Misha glanced down to inspect. She smiled widely and blinked lightly. “Terra,” Roseknowe indicated.

Mischa couldn’t help her pleasure. She had never seen the bosom of the Empire, and was ecstatic to have her chance. “I will do you honor, Inquisitor.”

“I know.”

Mischanne left that afternoon. She would never have guessed those would be the last words she heard from the woman who had mentored her, or that they would never again see each other...

If she had known, she probably would have said something more enlightening.


	9. Chapter 9

Mischanne stepped foot on Holy Terra with a gasp of amazement. She paused, looking to her companion with a sudden smack of uncertainty and a humiliation for her pause.

Starn just smiled. “Everyone feels humbled the first time,” he promised. “You get used to it.”

Mischa looked up Starn with admiration and understanding in equal measure. If anyone could understand it was he, who had been dispatched as an agent of Roseknowe to Terra many times in the past. They held equal rank, both be by Interrogators, yet he deferred to her as a superior due to a lack of personal desire to expand his position. Yet he was absolutely more experienced in this arena, and she felt like a child in his presence...

Which- next to his advanced age- she actually was.

“I will remember that,” she promised. Mischa took his hand and walked down from the platform where the ship landed and headed with him to the Inquisition’s central building.

Every inch brought Misha a stronger resolve, and by the time she was at the front desk her spine was straight and her head clear. “Interrogator Mischanne, of Inquisitor Roseknowe’s retinue. I am here to see the Sister.”

“Sister Elyse?” There was some slight surprise. “She has proven irresponsive. Questioning has been deemed a waste of resources.”

Mischanne chuckled. “We shall see,” she promised.

The corridors were narrower than expected, meant to nullify numbers should the citadel ever come under attack, and the light dim to give advantage to enhanced optics. Mischa made a note of each measure as she passed- not the least of which were multiple members of militant sects hidden through the walkway. Her ears perked with each breath, her senses somehow on edge...

“Calm your nerves,” Starn suggested. “Sisters can sense the uncertainty.”

Mischanne shook her head as she smiled lightly, but her mind reeled. She knew about that, was ready for that- yet she had forgotten. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Truly.”

Starn just nodded slightly. He paced just behind her as she wandered to the door and took a breath as she set a hand on the doorknob...

And stopped.

“Starn,” she suggested, “get me two mugs of recaf.” With that she shrugged off the black leather jacket she wore daily, leaving only  
the scarlet tank beneath and the bare skin of her shoulders. On one was the Inquisitorial ‘I’ and on the other the fleur of her previous sisterhood. “I will begin alone.”

Starn sopped as though to protest before he looked at the tattoos and nodded. “I will be back shortly.”

With that, Mischa entered the room and took her first look at an old friend. Time had changed the woman; where once she had stark black hair, now the snow white of the Sororitas had taken over, and her eyes were much more stern than her past. Mischanne could not help but realize her own dark hair was flecked with the same hair, her eyes the unreadable grey from spending the years she had among them, and that the positions could have easily been reversed. She took a breath and several steps forward before daring to speak to the woman occupied by silent prayer.

“Sister.” The word was simple, cautious. Soothing, or so she hoped. It got the woman to turn, almost jerking at the strength of her reaction.

“Sister!” Elyse jumped to her feet and gasped. “I thought you lost to us completely.”

“I suppose those rumors are highly exaggerated.”

Elyse shook her head slowly. “I imagined as much. I saw the ship take off... I would never have imagined it was the Inquisition.”

There were, Mischanne thought, so many more ways to question than by asking directly or torture. “It was,” she explained. “Inquisitor Roseknowe took me under her wing directly.”

For the next several hours Mischa sat with Elyse and started to discuss her training. In vague terms at least, picking the most difficult missions in the Emperor’s name and glory. The other woman leaned in and shared similar tales, speaking of some of her earlier missions with the same detached manner while letting her know just enough to feel trust...

Elyse was very good at it.

Mischanne was better.

“So,” Misha sighed as she rounded to the point. “That last mission was not what you expected I suppose?”

Elyse but her lip. “I... no.” The admission seemed to take the wind out of her. “It was not.”

Misha took her recaf cup and swirled the last bit of liquid at the bottom, sipping it slowly and trying not to smack her lips at the bitterness that came out in the cool liquid that was somehow lessened in the heat. “That is unfortunate,” she noted as she stretched. “I am glad I was able to see you...”

“Wait.”

Mischanne paused as she had headed towards the door. A small smile crossed her face as she calculated the time.

Five hours was what it had taken. Time very well spent.

“Yes, Elyse?”

“Can we... that is, I... would you be comfortable acting as my confessor?”

Mischanne felt the ends of the hair on her neck perk, her body slowing to turn to her charge. “I would be honored,” she noted, “but you do understand anything you divulge will be knowledge of the Inquisition?”

Elyse took a deep breath. “I do.”

Misha moves back and took a seat at the wide table again, this time a deep breath catching as she cracked her neck and reached for the pockets of her discarded jacket in hand. She pulled a set of candles from the deepest, small but lovely in their black and red swirling patterns. She put one on either end and knelt with her new charge as the enormity of her task finally settled into true resolve.

“Ave domine,” Misha started slowly, methodically. “Domine libra nos.”

Elyse clasped her hands and lowered her head. “Hear me, my sister, and absolve me of my sins.”

It was an ancient right, one as solemn as the holiest word of the Emperor. Misha found herself relaxing as she took a role she had never expected or intended, yet that in another life might have been her sworn duty.

It felt... right.

“Speak then,” Misha suggested. “Speak and be heard.”

Elyse breathed in softly. “It was a planet with ruins, beautiful yet cold. I knew them at once to be... alien. Xeno.” At that she raised her hands in the sign of the Aquila as though to ward off the horror.

“Can you describe them?” Misha asked, keeping her tone soft and even.

Elyse let her eyes flutter as she delved I to the memory. “Soft arches, gentle etchings. There were scripts all around, flowery and bold...”

Mischanne reached a hand out as her friend shuddered with the thought. She drew it onto her shoulder and exhaled slowly. “I know the ones,” she admitted. “So beautiful they almost make you cry. A shame it had to be made by the alien.”

“Sister- is it wrong to pity them?”

Mischanne considered the options of her response. On this be hand it was an alien, and the be hated with a fiery passion... and yet.

“Pity them, for they are born xeno and cannot know the light of our Emperor’s grace,” she suggested. “Mourn their culture, for it is not our own and cannot be touched by His light. Purge in his name that they may know peace.”

Elyse nodded solemnly. “There is a thing I saw,” she admitted. “Blue as a jeweled sapphire in the tales of old, glimmering as though touched by His divine hand. I could not find it in me to let it lie.”

Mischanne felt her head ache. “A... sapphire?”

Elyse nodded, lowering her eyes and sighing. “I took it, Sister. I feel it was wrong of me, and yet I could not help myself.” With that, she reached into her bodice and pulled it out to hold before her. “Release me of my burden.”

Mischa looked at the item and held her hand to take the item. It was a deep blue and perfectly formed orb, the purpose nearly unmistakable...

This was not the first eldar soulstone Mischanne had seen.

“Elyse...”

The sister shook her head. “I do not care what it is,” she begged. “Free me from my sin, by any means, Sister.”

Mischanne closed her eyes tightly. “You will be absolved, my Sister,” she promised, “though not as you expect.”

Elyse shook. “I know the price for disobedience of this caliber,” she noted. “Repentance.”

Misha nodded. There was a long tradition of sixteen joinng the Repentia for thoughts like these, for sympathies. Yet she could not lose this child, this woman she had grown beside, not for herself and not for the Inquisition.

“Repentance takes many forms,” she noted. Then she offered a hand, strong and palm up. “Join me.”

Elyse reached out for the hand tentatively, clasping hard and rising to her feet. “You are to be my penance as well as my confessor?”

Mischanne pulled her new charge from her knees with a confidence she was surprised to find genuine. “Not me as penance,” she corrected. “The Emperor’s holy work. From now forth you are an agent of his Holy Inquisition.”

And that was how Elyse joined the Inquisition.


	10. Chapter 10

Mischanne listened to the message again, considering her options.

Roseknowe has an artifact she needed retrieved and hidden. There were so many thoughts- Cadia, a rock, a ship..

The item she had picked up with the message was intriguing enough. It was a blue stone with a gentle blue glow, warm to the touch. Had she not spent time among the eldar she might not have understood what she was being asked; however to her the identity was something obvious.

A soulstone.

Her fingers danced along the edges as she looked at the beautiful gem. And inside, she knew, was the residue of a creature of grace and fairness. The eldar has once been a great people, but their time had gone and they were very much the worse for wear. The truth fascinated her, actually. Even as she was horrified by it.

She stretched out fully on her bed, her mind racing...

“Karladon,” she whispered, the idea taking hold.

It was an odd idea but one she he’d to. He was trustworthy, Emperor-fearing... and completely unable to be expected.

In short- perfect.

“Starn.” Her voice was steadier than expected, one hand on the com link and the other on the stone. “Send a message. Victory’s Hope. Last chance. Behemoth.”

“Very good, Interrogator. Shall we change course as well?”

“Yes. Billiot A, I think,”

“As you wish.”

The trip was uneventful. When they touched down she found a dive bar to hide out in, a Taverna with a fair collection of amazed she could stomach. She curled up in a corner with a datapad of some trashy novel and waited.

“Are you the courier I ordered?”

“I’m sorry,” she started as she looked up...

The individual addressing her was strange, to say the least. He had very short hair that was a streak of deep gray, and his eyes were an Ivey blue she had seen only rarely. The posture was what struck her, however; and the secret smile tugging just barely at the edge of his lips.

“... Karladon?”

The older-looking gentleman looked around cautiously and nodded ever so slightly. “Victris, ma’am.”

Mischanne sighed slightly, standing from her spot and beckoning him back to a private room where she collapsed into the sole booth. He stood before her, straightened and proud but beneath his bearing was a sense of his past flippancy.

“What happened?” Her question was straight, to the point. “There must be a reason for this.”

“Mikel- you remember him? My sergeant at arms?- urned out to have planned a mutiny. I had to dispose of him, but there were so many others involved... I had to start from scratch.” His face dropped, eyes shutting as he shivered. “But there are friends. Family members- so I have a back up plan.”

Misha nodded in understanding. “Disguise.”

“Even my seneschal was in on it. Throne, he manipulated the whole thing!” Here he finally sat down. “So yes- the persona is useful.”

Mischanne considered him once more, lips pursing. “You’re more comfortable in this version of yourself,” she noted.

Karla’s on looked like he was about to protest before he sighed. “This is me,” he admitted. “The captain is an interesting front, but...” His voice fell, his face smirking as he stopped himself from continuing.

“But it doesn’t feel comfortable.”

His nod in return was adamant. “Exactly.”

Mischanne stretched her hands above her head and yawned. She reached one further and patted the seat beside her, letting her guest sit. “You look exhausted my friend.”

“Yes... well...”

Karladon collapsed into seat, curling against Mischanne’s side and allowing her arm to drop around his shoulder. He leaned in further, and Misha couldn’t help but relish the smell of his hair.

She couldn’t help how her head dipped ever so slightly to kiss his cheek. Karladon turned his head, letting the blush fall upon his lips and deepening the sensation...

“We shouldn’t do this.”

Karladon snickered. “Yes we should,” he assured. “We have no reason not to.”

“I’m an Inquisitor...”

“And I’m a Trader,” he responded, leaning in further. “What’s your point?”

Mishanne bit the bottom of her lip and continued. “I was a member of the Sisterhood.”

“Were. Was.” Karladon let his breath hit her throat as he added, “You don’t have to be so upright anymore.”

Misha felt her own air cut off as she dipped to kiss him, unable to control her desires. She licked her lips impatiently, arm’s wrapping around the captain and filling him impossibly closer. He responded by pushing her down lightly, hands raising to undo the buttons of her jacket...

She paused, reaching up. “Let me.”

She undid the clasp, waving her hand away from the mist that came out. It dissipated quickly, her smile coming lightly as she did. She whispered, “Toxin,” and continued to unbutton.

“Any other nice tricks I should know about?”

“Actually...” As Mischanne wriggled under his touch, she pulled off not only belts but blades and a couple blasters. “One can never be too careful,” she explained with a blush.

“So I see.”

Karladon’s eyes wandered the now bared body, and he was truly admiring her. She turned away, embarrassed.

“Don’t do that,” he offered, running a finger through the white-streaked hair. “You’re too beautiful.”

“I’m fairly average...”

“Who EVER told you THAT?”

“I’ve just always known.”

Karl admitted n shook his head. “You are gravely mistaken. I can’t help myself around you, Mischanne.” With that said he leaned down and began to do something very different.

She managed to broach her actual need in the afterglow of the moment. He took it on willingly and without complaint, just as she had imagined he might...

The kiss was more than she had dared ever hope for in her life.


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m sorry- I don’t understand.”

Starn put his hand on Mischa’s shoulder with a heavy squeeze. “Yes, my dear. You do.”

The truth hit Mischanne in slow eddies. She had felt the twists, the uncertainty, ever so slightly. The report he was giving however went beyond that. It was horror. It was... disconcerting to say the least.

“How long do they have?”

Starn shook his head. “Then you don’t understand. Cadia has already fallen. The loss is a matter of time...”

Misha shuddered. “Cadia is fallen.”

It was Elyse who spoke up. “No,” she corrected. “Cadia does stand.”

Mischanne felt her heart throb as the beats quickened, looking at the shipboard starchart. “We have to answer the call,” she whispered.

Starn pursed his lips. “If we do... we will die.”

“If we don’t then the Imperium is at the mercy of whatever forces choose to find us. I would rather continue and hope for the future.”

Starn looked up at Misha and nodded, saluting her with his rosette in the Aquila symbol. He put a hand on her shoulder and offered his best response. “In the name of the Emperor then.”

The ship arrived on the other side of the Acadian gate to a whirlwind. Phalanx sat on the dirt of Cadia, the mighty fortress obviously brought low by massive means, and the other ships were in a flurry of activity. Mischanne tried to hail anyone as they approached, unsure where to set down...

It was chaos.

“How can anyone have survived this?” She whispered, unwilling to even breathe loudly.

That was when the scream permeated the air. Not the air as much actually- the whole of creation. It reverberated through each mind loudly, uncomfortably, and made each member of the ship’s crew shudder. The navigator tipped in her chair unable to bear the strain, and in the infirmary a novice psyker aboard the ship keeled over mid-treatment.

Chaos had won.

“Take a stock of the ship,” Misha calmly managed. “Get the short range transport ready...”

And the ship shook.

“Belay the order,” Starn begged. “Prepare to receive friendly boarders.”

Mischanne stalled. “Clarify.”

“A host of Battle Sisters from the Shrine,” Elyse commented. “Single small transport, badly damaged. They beg assistance.”

“Open to them.”

Elyse ran down the hallways, Misha hot on her heels. The trio took only a few minutes to get to the hold, where the ship’s doors were only just opening...

The sister superior was not in front. This caused Misha to furrow her brows, and her newest companion beside her tensed. They greeted the tired, bedraggled women as they came forward, only a dozen remaining.

“Who is in charge?” Elyse asked as she noticed there was no superior.

“Sister Marjoria was taken from us...” the hospitaler broke to tears, unable to finish her explanation.

Elyse put a hand on the young sister’s shoulder. “The Emperor shall sing her name.”

The girl fell, tears and exhaustion in her body taking over. Misha spun on her heel, a page on her wrist calling for those in the infirmary to hurry down...

“How do we escape?” Elyse suddenly whispered in horror.

Misha closed her eyes, using sensory techniques Roseknowe had developed in her to comprehend, and felt the shuddering. Real space was tearing itself apart, taken over by the Warp- jumping now into that Chaos would be suicidal.

“It’s a death trap,” Starn added.

Mishanne shook her head and took off at a run back to the bridge, calling in her wake, “It doesn’t have to be for all of us.”

“How?”

Mishanne breathes deep as she hurried, ignoring all inquiries. Her steps were fast and sure, but her mind raced at what she was about to do- to order...

She hit the bridge and grabbed the manifest of everyone on board. She immediately separated the names in her mind and began crossing off specific individuals, frowning.

A hand raised, mentally wiping away the image of the names remaining. Too few, too late...

Unless...

“I need all the psykers on the ship and the Sisters who just arrived to meet me in the Gellar room,” she burst, running out again.

“What..?”

Misha ignored the outburst and hurried to the room in question. Her stretched stride for her there before anyone else, allowing her to grab a chalk and begin marking the floor in two concentric circles.

It was Elyse who entered first, looking on in awe. “What do I need to do?”

“Get the psykers in the center,” she directed. “Sisters on the outer circle.”

“Inq... Interrogator Aye.”

Misha hopes her calculations, her thoughts, would prove accurate. She feared herself as the women and few male psykers entered, sterling herself for the order she was about to give.

“I need a barrier within a barrier,” she guided. “Expand both around the ship.”

“... dual barriers?”

Mishanne nodded. “It should allow us to jump to a safe point without attracting the attention of true Chaos.”

It was Elyse who gave pause. “Misha...”

Mishanne shook her head, eyes flying to her friend as she mouthed, “Please.”

The ship shuddered, and Elyse nodded as she helped the psykers and sisters into position, her misgiving strong but trusting of her leader. 

Even as she knew what was happening.

“When I say, I want all the sistren to pull up their faith as a shield. Imagine it as a ball, a shimmering cloak, and use it to hold the ship safe.”

“And the psykers?”

Mishanne took in a deep breath. “Concentrate... and help the astropath open the Warp.”

The psykers shuddered. “As you wish,” the eldest honored.

Misha nodded at the elder’s wisdom. “Begin countdown when ready. Mark to ten.” She turned to Starn, who looked in wide-eyed. “Connect us to the bridge and prepare the jump.”

“Aye Inqu... Interrogator.”

The sky seemed to quake as the countdown began. Mischanne held to the wall, Elyse beside her as the two began their own prayer...

“Emperor, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear legion, though they set themselves against me.”

The ship shook as the sky ripped and the fog of the warp took over. One of the psykers collapsed, the rest tightening their circle around her. This process continued a few times until the ship burst out into real space in triumph and the remaining psykers collapsed into the mass on the floor...

Only for the loudest scream anyone had heard to resound around the ship.

Mischanne was immediately on her com. “Bridge- report.”

“The navigator’s down.”

Misha shuddered. “Collapsed or dead?”

“Unknown.”

Misha made a mental note to mourn later as she looked around the room where she stood. “Where are we?” she asked slowly, calmly.

“Calypsis sector.”

Misha cursed lightly. “Elyse...” She pauses, turning to see her sister with darkened eyes. Her lips pursed together and she took a deep breath. “Get medica assistance for those that are left of the psykers.”

“And our sisters?”

Elyse answered for their leader. “The Emperor protects his own. They will need rest before returning to duty- those that can.”

Mischanne nodded her assent as she stepped away, wondering how many she had condemned to death, when a soft voice found her ear. “Inquisitor.”

“I am no Inquisitor.”

Starn shook his head. “Maybe not in title, but in mind... you have crossed the line.”

Misha blinked, caught off guard, and let a single tear fall. Whispering she asked, “Did I do the right thing?”

Starn cocked his head, answer completely no slowly. “There is no way to know for sure. But you saw an option and were willing to take a chance. That is the heart of an Inquisitor if ever there was.”

“Thank you,” was her only whisper.

“Do not thank me for the truth.”

Mishanne reached the bridge and looked out into the stars, eyes blinking as she surveyed them. “Where are we?”

“We will have to find a navigator or astropath who can guide us,” a crewer said.

Starn looked out from over Mischa’s shoulder. “We’re in the Caras sector, near Hishram. Just as intended.”

Mischanne peered our, seeing a lot my break in the sky of space. “That cannot be right. There is no such fabric in Caras.”

“Look again.”

Misha did as asked, viewing the stars. “Emperor protect,” she gasped. “What happened?”

“Where are we?” a member of the crew asked, confused.

“It’s Caras.”

“But the spacial tear...”

“Is everywhere. It appears never ending, ongoing...” Misha let her voice trail off a second and cleared her throat. “We need a course for Terra.”

Starn looked forward again, horrified. “I think it was in that direction.”

Misha cursed under her breath. “I hope not.”

The bridge were all looking over the edge when a large gothic ship came into view, covering the window. A hail crackled over the cox channels...

“Repeat- Rogue Trader vessel dangerously low on power. Need help. Is anyone there?”

Maybe she felt her jaw drop as she recognized the voice. “Karladon?”

It was a near full moment of silence before the response. “Mischanne?”

The Interrogator sighed in an easy, pleased tone. “How are things, captain?”

“I’m... I’ve been better.”

“I could say the same.” Mischanne sighed but let her smile widen. “Let’s dock together and figure out how to recoup.”

“As you command, Interrogator.”


	12. Chapter 12

Karladon was slightly changed from their last meeting.

The whole galaxy was changed, though. Misha could forgive him following suit.

“What is our next step, Interrogator?”

Mischanne paused, eyes dashing over the console read out. “I need to locate Roseknowe,” she admitted. “I am not autonomous.”

Karladon nodded. “That makes some sense. But with this divide...”

Misha slammed her hands down. “I still have to try.”

Karladon have a nod and guided her to the bridge proper, where he sat behind her. “Comms are yours.”

Mischanne reaches for the tuning button before looking at the new astropath. “I have asked much of your kind today, and I am sorry,” she started. “The navigator, the previous astropath. I need one more favor- not minor, but small in comparison.”

The daunted psyker frowned, but nodded her assent. “Tell me what you require.”

Mischanne handed a flimsy over. “I need you to transmit exactly this as close to the center as possible.”

“As you wish.”

Mischanne watched as the young astropath struggled and wavered, hand over flimsy paper as she wrote out a response in zeroes and ones. Misha felt her breath catch partway, body wavering then crashing to the ground herself.

Karladon was at her side in an instant. “Misha!” His use of her familiar name was telling, even as he knelt beside her. “Misha, talk with me.”

“She’s... gone.” Her voice quivered, eyes closing. “Roseknowe...”

“The Inquisitor is dead?” Karladon asked, eyebrows raising.

“She... is.” A few tears welled in the woman’s eye for her mentor.

Karladon got a knee and handed her a dataslate. “Inquisitor.”

Maybe she shook her head. “It doesn’t...”

“Work that way? Not unless there are explicit orders, true.”

Mischanne looked over the dataslate. Roseknowe’s orders were extremely clear. “I guess so.” Tears floated in her eyes again, lips puckering. “I’m going to miss her.”

Karladon took her hand. “She wanted you to be happy.”

“She wanted me to have something more. Because I earned it.”

Karladon considered his options carefully, his mouth turning to a right line before he brought the newly minted Inquisitor in for a robust hug. “It’s all going to be alright, even if it isn’t going as planned.”

Mishanne wipes at her eyes, hands shaking. “Can we go somewhere private?”

“By your command, Inquisitor.”


End file.
